


You Were Only Waiting

by Cristinuke



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Recovery, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cristinuke/pseuds/Cristinuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has to deal with fallout of Clint's captivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Only Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blackbird in the Dead of Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130030) by [Elizabeth Wired (sendal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendal/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Wired). 



> This is a little extra scene I was inspired to write for Elizabeth Wired (sendal)'s beautiful fic, "Black Bird in the Dead of Night". (Go read that if you haven't already). This takes place after that fic.

Clint woke up in a panic.

He stumbled out of bed, vaguely surprised he could move around. Coulson wasn't anywhere to be seen, but Clint knew that meant nothing. He staggered through the room until he found the door and pushed out. He wondered why he was in his old floor that he hadn't been allowed in before. He made his way through to the stairs and stumbled up, moving automatically until he found himself in the bathroom of the penthouse suite. Turning on the lights, he waited for his eyes to adjust. When he looked around, he choked back a moan and almost started crying.

The bathroom was a mess. There was dirt and debris and grime everywhere. Coulson was going to be so mad.

Clint knew what to do. He went to work.

He slowly took off his sweatpants and folded them neatly on the floor by the door. His shirt went next, placed perfectly on top of the pants. Naked, he padded to the sink and crouched down to open the cabinets. He took out the cleaning supplies and placed them on the floor. Closing the doors, he turned around and got into his familiar position on his hands and knees. He grabbed a brush and the bleach and started scrubbing the floor, getting the dirt mixed up. Clint supposed he should have swept the floor first, but his panic wasn't letting him think straight. He just focused on fixing the mess. On cleaning everything.

His knees were starting to ache, his nose burned and his hands were raw. Still, Clint knew he had to keep going.

After some time, long enough to turn his fingers an unhealthy shade of red, Clint flinched when he heard movement behind him; Clint started scrubbing faster. Maybe if he showed how much he wanted to clean, the punishment wouldn't be as bad.

"Clint?" A sleepy voice asked. Clint tensed and washed harder. "Clint." It was Coulson. Clint's chest tightened so much it hurt to breathe. His fingers felt numb.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry, I'll clean it all, it'll be perfect, just like you want, just let me clean it, please, I'm sorry," Clint choked out, words rambling into each other as he bit back tears that threatened to fall.

He heard movement and then saw Coulson move around and crouch so he was in front of Clint. His hands reached out slowly to gently lay on Clint's, "Clint, please stop." Clint stilled immediately, and he couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry, 'msorry 'msorry," he slurred the words, mumbling his mantra.

"Clint, look at me, please." Clint's head snapped up so he was looking at Coulson's kind face. "Clint, who am I?" Coulson asked, with a slight frown creasing his eyebrows. Clint shook his head a little to see through the tears and then focused on Coulson's face: he had crow's feet at the edges of his eyes that were slightly crinkled, his mouth was turned into a slight frown, but it was from concentration and concern rather than anger. His eyes were what Clint was most shocked by, though; they were wide open with worry, care and love. That was a combination Clint hadn't seen in a long time.

Sucking in a breath, everything came crashing down on Clint again. Coulson had been _him._ This was Phil. They _told_ him this was Phil. Phil had come back and saved him. Phil was the one who loved him. Phil was the one who cared. Phil was safe. Phil was real. Phil was here.

"Phil," Clint breathed, whisper tight with emotion. Phil's slight frown turned into a small smile as he let out a breath of relief. His hands squeezed Clint's where they laid. Clint couldn't hold himself together anymore, and slumped forward, his muscles giving up.

Suddenly Clint was very cold. He started shivering and couldn't stop the chattering of his teeth. Phil noticed, of course he did, and looked around. His eyes landed on the thick, fluffy towels that were hanging on the rack. He leaned back, taking his hands with him, which made Clint's stomach tighten with rejection, and he pulled on the towel. When it slid free, he pulled it around Clint's frame, covering him with it; Clint couldn't help leaning forward when Phil's arms draped the towel across his shoulders. Phil froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him slightly into his chest. Clint let himself be enveloped by his embrace, and tried to steal as much warmth from him as he could.

"There you are. It's okay. You're okay, Clint." Phil cooed in his ear. He slowly rubbed up and down Clint's back, trying to warm him up. Clint tucked his head into Phil's shoulder and whispered brokenly, "I'm so _tired_."

Tired of being confused. Tired of being afraid. Tired of forgetting. Tired of making the same mistakes over and over again. Tired of being _tired_.

Phil tightened his hold and murmured, "I know." He rested his chin gingerly on his head. "But you'll get through this, I _promise_." Clint whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, not caring anymore about the runaway tears leaking out to soak the shirt underneath. "Sleep, now, Clint. Rest." Clint vaguely nodded and made an affirming noise that cut off as he immediately started drifting off. He was unconscious before he knew it.

~<>~

Phil held Clint's limp body in his arms. The bathroom tile was freezing. There was no way they could stay here, so he moved slowly and then lifted him up as he stood. It always surprised him and made flames of anger lick his guts when he realized just how light Clint was; he had lost so much weight during his time as a captive.

Clint didn't stir as Phil gathered him in his arms and walked out the bathroom. He took the elevator, leaning against the wall and looking down at the man he had cradled against his chest; Clint's head was nicely tucked in the crook of his shoulder and neck, and his hands were clutching his shirt. He walked out to Clint's floor and saw Steve down the hall. Steve looked worried, but his expression eased when he saw the pair of them. Steve didn't move as they walked past him and into Clint's room. Phil gently lowered Clint onto the bed and pulled the tangled sheets apart so that he could cover him with them. Clint mumbled something in his sleep and then turned around, falling silent. Phil stood there for a few minutes, watching the sleeping form.

Finally, he tore his eyes away and forced himself to walk out of the room. He carefully shut the door, making sure it didn't make a noise as it closed. He walked mechanically to where Steve still stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed across his chest.

"How is he?" he asked in a low tone. His face was nothing but worry and compassion.

Phil sighed and brought his hands up to scrub at his face. "Confused. Scared. Lost." His voice betrayed his emotions as he gave up the fight to conceal them. Steve looked guiltily at the floor, avoiding his face.

"I'm so sorry. We should have come sooner." Phil wants to agree. He wants to snap at Steve that rescuing Clint should have been their priority, that they should have never left him here in the first place. But he knows it's useless. He's been over the same arguments with himself ever since this all started.

"No, Cap. We couldn't have done it sooner. We just have to live with the consequences now, and pray that a miracle will help set things right." Phil closed his eyes and leaned back on the opposite  wall. His knees were threatening to give out, but he made them hold.

"He'll get through this. He's a tough guy, he _has_ to." Steve breathed out, eyes shifting to Clint's door.

Phil opened his eyes to follow Steve's gaze, staring intensely at the closed door. "I hope you're right." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to sendal for letting me play in her sandbox!


End file.
